Oh Yeah, Life Goes On
by Sue Pokorny
Summary: What - or who - brought Sam back? Is it really Sam at all? Dean is still number one on the demon hit parade, but with his brother back by his side, will they finally get a break? Will be AU by Season 6 premiere.
1. Chapter 1

_I tried. I really, really tried to be patient and wait until September to see what happens to the boys, but alas, it was not to be. Thoughts ran rampant through my brain and this is the result. Yes, I know it will be completely AU by the Season 6 premiere and I have no problem with that whatsoever._

_That being said, I do not believe that after everything, God would allow Sam to suffer as long as four long months and then suddenly decide to give him a break, and I also can't believe Sam is cruel enough – misguided intentions aside - to let Dean continue to grieve and believe he is suffering in Hell for that amount of time either. So, this is my solution. It will be presented in four acts just like an episode, so imagine commercials of your choice between each. And now…_

**Oh Yeah, Life Goes On**

**Act I**

Dean sat on the front steps and raised the bottle to his lips, the last swallow of beer already warm. He really had no idea how long he'd been sitting there, but, as he looked up, he noticed the street lamps – with the exception of the one directly in front of Lisa's house - were beginning to come on and the sky was starting to darken into evening.

He sighed, one month down… the rest of his life to go.

He set the bottle on the porch with the others and let his arms fall between his knees, his head hanging. Slowly he brought one hand up and rubbed at the seemingly constant ache behind his eyes. The last month had seemed like an eternity.

It probably had been for Sam.

Dean was the one person who actually knew what his brother was going through… and all he could do was sit here and think about it.

Because he'd made a promise.

A god damned stupid promise.

God he hated this. He didn't really remember the first few days after he'd shown up on Lisa's porch in Cicero. He supposed he was in some kind of shock – but it had slowly worn off and he'd been faced with the reality of the rest of his life. He'd spent most of the time after that simply skulking around Lisa's house trying not to think about what had happened back at Stull. He'd gone with her to Ben's baseball games, even took the kid to practice a couple of times. A chance encounter with one of the kids' dads, which had resulted in an unappreciated offer to buy the Impala, had made him shy away from the 'normal' people who inhabited Lisa's world. He wasn't ready to move on. He wasn't ready to pretend to be something he wasn't.

He wasn't ready to let go of his life.

Of Sam.

He wasn't sure if he ever would be.

He'd even tried making himself useful by doing odd jobs around the house and going on errands. The trip to the grocery store had been a disaster. Not only had he managed to purchase the wrong brands of just about everything on Lisa's very long list, but the whole experience had driven home just how useless and utterly unprepared he was for the real world.

He couldn't do normal.

He couldn't even get a job.

It's not like he couldn't find anything, but he'd had to face the fact that it wasn't easy to scrounge up a new identity that would withstand close scrutiny for a long period of time. Dean Winchester was dead. He'd need to get a new social security number, not to mention new I.D. and credit cards. And then they'd have to explain it all to Ben… like a ten year old was going to understand why his mom's new live-in friend was suddenly using a different name. Dean sincerely cared about the kid, but… he wasn't sure he was ready for any of this.

He sighed as he reached for the six-pack, realizing the bottles were all empty. Beer wasn't really cutting it anyway. He knew Lisa wasn't thrilled about his drinking, but so far she hadn't actually said anything. She seemed to understand that he was going through something that couldn't just be smoothed over and forgotten with a few hugs and a couple of words of comfort. So, she had kept quiet about the amount of alcohol he was consuming, only trying to make sure he ate and slept – although he wasn't really doing much of either. He appreciated her concern, but he wasn't used to anyone actually watching out for his wellbeing.

Well, nobody except Sam.

Who was gone.

Who was destined to spend eternity locked inside a cage with the devil himself.

God he needed a drink.

Pushing himself from the steps, he shuffled forward, pulling his keys from his pocket as he approached the Impala parked at the curb in front of the house. He'd made a run to a liquor store across town while Lisa was at work, ashamed of his weakness, but acknowledging the need. He didn't want to feel the grief he'd felt back at Stull. Even with his face broken, his brain concussed and more than likely fatally damaged before Cas had healed him, he had been overwhelmed by the aching emptiness he'd felt at the knowledge that Sam had succeeded in his quest for redemption and was now utterly and completely lost to him.

He didn't want to go on. He didn't want this life. But a promise is a promise, and Dean had never gone back on one made to his brother. So he was determined to try. But that didn't mean he didn't need a little help now and then… especially now.

He raised the trunk of the Chevy and reached in to grab a bottle of Jack Daniels from his stash when a voice came out of the darkness of the night.

"Excuse me, could you tell us how to get to Carson Street?"

Dean jumped, his grief, coupled with the beer he'd consumed, dulling his senses enough that someone was able to approach without him noticing. He stepped back and peered around the open trunk, his heart in his throat at the thought that his defenses were so far out of kilter.

A middle-aged couple smiled pleasantly at him and he took a deep breath to settle his nerves before stepping around the car.

"We're sorry, dear," the slightly plump woman cooed. "We didn't mean to startle you."

"No," her husband chimed in. He stepped forward a hand held out in greeting. "We're in town visiting our son and his wife and managed to get ourselves a bit lost."

Dean returned the smile half-heartedly. "Uh, no. Its okay." He shrugged, sidestepping the man's outstretched hand. "I'm kind of new here myself. Afraid I'm not gonna be much help with directions."

The man waved the hand and took another step forward. "No worries. We'll find our way. Sorry again to startle you."

"No," Dean dismissed the apology. "I just wasn't really paying attention." He started to turn but stopped short when the man stepped directly in front of him.

"That kind of distraction is dangerous for a hunter, Dean." The man's voice deepened and his eyes turned black. "Especially when you're all alone."

He lunged forward, grabbing the back of Dean's neck and pulled, causing the younger man to loose his balance. As he fell forward, Dean instinctively reached behind his back for a weapon, cursing under his breath when he realized he had none. His balance compromised, he felt himself slammed against the side of the Impala, his chest taking the brunt of the collision, his breath forced from his lungs. Turning quickly, he was able to dodge the fist coming toward him, stepping sideways, away from the car, only to feel the weight of the woman latch onto his back.

Turning in an attempt to dislodge the possessed woman, he was pushed forward by her bulk, his head connecting with the edge of the Impala's door, his vision blurring as he fought to collect himself. Squeezing his eyes closed, he shook his head, trying to clear the dark spots that were crowding his perception, knowing he couldn't afford to leave himself exposed. He turned again, his ears ringing, his arm against the big car for balance. He wiped a hand across his forehead, noting the dark streak of blood smeared on his palm. Looking up, he growled, taking a wobbly step toward the woman when a dark shape pushed him back, almost completely blocking his view.

He landed hard against the Impala, his head spinning, his chest aching as he concentrated on drawing in harsh breaths and keeping his brain from leaking out of his ears. He was vaguely aware of an exchange of words, a scuffle of feet, then the familiar whoosh of demonic smoke rushing past. He forced his head up in time to see both of his attackers fall to the ground, the black smoke quickly disappearing into the darkness. Swallowing down the bile in his throat, he managed to straighten, his eyes widening as he stared at his rescuer.

The large figure in front of him turned slowly and Dean felt the ache in his chest deepen as his heart constricted in longing. "Sam?"

He held out a hand, grabbing onto the familiar brown jacket as he swayed, his vision swimming. He stared at the material, not knowing whether to believe this dream was real, until the deep, familiar voice made his breath catch in his throat.

"Hey, Dean."

…

Sam leaned forward slightly as his brother's eyes rolled back and he pitched forward onto the younger man's shoulder. Wrapping an arm around Dean' legs, Sam hoisted him up into a fireman' carry and slowly turned toward the house. He stepped around the formerly possessed couple and hurried down the short walkway, opening the front door and entering the dark room without knocking.

The moonlight cast enough illumination into the small house and Sam quickly saw a couch to his left. Moving across the room, he gently lowered Dean onto the cushions, placing a small throw pillow beneath his head.

A quiet gasp from behind had him turning, instinctively placing himself between the new threat and his brother.

"Sam?"

Lisa stood at the bottom of the staircase. She was wearing an oversized t-shirt and a pair of shorts, obviously ready for bed. She stared at him with an expression of wariness before her eyes tracked down to the unconscious man on the sofa. Her lips parted as if she wanted to speak, but when she looked back to Sam, her eyes said all she needed to say.

"He's okay," Sam assured her. "He hit his head, but he's okay." He looked back at his prone brother, his voice softening at the sight. "I have to… " He nodded toward the large picture window behind the couch and Lisa glanced outside, her eyes going wide at the sight of the older couple moving about slowly on her front lawn. Her attention was drawn back to Dean's brother when he continued to speak in a soft voice. "Can you get a wet cloth? His head is bleeding and we need to check to see if he's gonna need stitches."

Lisa nodded, still unable to speak to the man before her.

Sam sighed, shifting nervously as she continued to stare at him like he was a ghost.

"I know," he gave her a tired grin. "I'll explain everything… or whatever you want to know. Just please, take care of Dean. I'll be right back."

She watched him step back out the door and approach the couple who were struggling to their feet outside. Shaking herself from her stupor, she hurried to the kitchen and wetted a towel before returning to the living room and perching herself on the edge of the couch. As she dabbed at the blood on Dean's face, her eyes were drawn to the scene outside.

She'd only met Dean's brother briefly when they'd returned Ben after he'd been taken by the changelings. He'd waited in the driveway while she and Dean spoke inside the house, but she'd made a point of thanking him and giving him a hug before they left. He'd seemed like a nice guy and, from what she could remember from their encounter in '98, Dean had been extremely close to his brother, a fact supported by how devastated he'd been when he'd shown up on her doorstep a week ago believing he'd lost his only family.

She watched as Sam helped the couple to their feet, holding the woman's arm as he spoke to them. He leaned down, knees bent in an effort to lessen his bulk, an obvious attempt to make the other two feel less threatened. She wasn't sure what exactly had happened – and if she was completely honest, wasn't sure if she wanted to know – but it looked like Sam had things under control for the moment. As soon as the older couple moved off up the street, Sam turned toward Dean's car and sifted through the trunk for a moment before closing it.

A soft moan brought her attention back to the man lying on her couch. Dean's eyes were open half-mast, his pupils large in the scant moonlight shining through the window.

"Shhh," she said softly. "It's okay. You're okay."

"Lisa?" Dean's voice sounded so young and lost, almost like it had when he'd knocked on her door a week ago.

"Yeah," she responded, using the towel to wipe the seeping blood from the cut on his forehead. "How do you feel?"

Dean shifted, looking around the room, finally registering where he was. The sadness that overtook his features was heartbreaking. "It wasn't real, was it?"

Lisa swallowed hard, not sure what to say. She watched as Dean's eyes squeezed shut, his head turning to bury his face into the back of the couch. "God… I wanted it to be real…."

"Dean?"

Lisa jumped as Sam came back through the door, hurrying across the floor and kneeling in front of the couch. He placed a hand on his brother's arm and waited for Dean to turn back toward him.

Lisa sat back as Dean's eyes raked over his brother's face, not wanting to intrude on such an intimate moment. She felt a pang of envy at the way Dean looked at his brother, the love and relief that shone in the green depths. It was a look she'd hoped he'd have for her one day. She knew he cared for her and for Ben, but whether it was love or not was still too early to tell. From the intense emotion she could see in his eyes right now, she knew she would wait – even if it took a lifetime – for him to look at her with even a fraction of that passion.

"Sammy?" Dean's voice was barely a whisper, his eyes glued to his brother's as if searching for something only he could see. "Is it really you in there?"

Sam chuckled. "Yeah, man. It's me. I have no idea how, but…"

Dean must have seen whatever he was looking for because he pushed himself up from the couch and threw his arms around his brother. "I don't really care how, Sammy. I'm just glad you're okay."

Lisa stood and backed away, allowing Sam to shift to the edge of the couch and wrap his own arms around his brother. "I know. Me, too."

They sat like that for a few moments until Sam shifted and Dean finally released him. Sam shoved a pillow behind his brother's back and helped him ease back onto the cushion.

"How's your head?"

As if suddenly remembering something, Dean jumped and shifted around, focusing on the front lawn outside the living room window. "They were demons…" he said, his eyes darting from one side of the yard to the other, a frown on his face as he tried to remember what had just happened.

"Hey, Dean," Sam coaxed his brother back around and raised a hand to examine the cut on his head. "It's okay. They're gone."

Dean looked back at his brother then finally focused on Lisa standing behind Sam. Her arms were crossed and she looked scared, kind of hovering as if she wasn't quite sure what to do. He reached out a hand and she stepped forward, latching onto it, kneeling next to the couch in a kind of place swap with Sam. "Hey, it's okay babe." He pulled her to him and she collapsed against his chest, a soft sob escaping from her throat.

After a moment she pulled back, looking up at him with tears in her eyes. "Are you okay?" she asked, a slight tremor in her voice.

Dean pulled her back to him, running a hand down her soft hair as he grinned up at his very alive little brother. "Yeah. I am now."

….

"So," Dean set his coffee cup on the table and leaned forward, his eyes not making contact with his brother's. The occasion called for something a bit stronger than coffee, but seeing as how well his last attempt at pulling a bottle from his stash had gone, they'd opted for something readily available inside the house. Not to mention the fact that both Lisa and Sam had forbid him to drink anything more with a head injury.

Like one mother hen wasn't enough.

"So," Sam echoed.

Lisa looked from one man to the other, sensing that whatever conversation they were about to have would be easier if they were alone.

"Look," she pushed her chair back from the table and stood. "It's been an…. interesting night." She looked at Sam and smiled. "Sam, you're welcome to the couch, Dean can show you where everything is." At Sam's nod of gratitude, she stepped around the table and placed a kiss on Dean's upturned lips. "You sure you're okay?"

Dean nodded, returning her smile. "I'm good."

She narrowed her eyes as she studied him for a moment, finally nodding, accepting his answer for the truth. "Okay." She turned back to Sam. "I'm glad you're okay, Sam. Goodnight."

Both men said their goodnights and watched as she walked out of the kitchen and up the stairway.

"She's great," Sam smiled at his brother, whose eyes stayed on the darkened staircase for a moment.

"Yeah," Dean agreed in soft voice. "Yeah, they both are." He turned back to his brother, his gaze seeking and holding Sam's. "So… are you really? Okay I mean?"

Sam sighed before answering. "Yeah, man. I am."

Dean shook his head, not completely buying it. "Sammy, it's okay. I'm probably the one person on earth who can understand what you went through –"

"I wasn't in Hell, Dean. At least I don't remember being in Hell."

Dean's eyes widened at the comment. "Come again?"

"I don't remember."

Dean stared at his brother for a moment, his yes narrowed. "come on, man. I already tried that jedi mind trick, remember? It didn't work then and it's not gonna work now.'

Sam shrugged and shifted back against the wooden chair. "Seriously, Dean. I'm not lying. I remember Lucifer taking over my body and I remember what happened at Stull…" he swallowed hard, his eyes drifting to his hands as if expecting to still see his brother's blood on them. After a moment he raised his eyes back to Deans. "I don't know if it was right away or not exactly, but all I remember is when I fell into the hole, I wasn't alone inside my head, and then suddenly I was. I've had a little time to think about it and I think it was because I was still alive – I mean, my soul was still attached to a living, breathing body." Sam's voice took on the lilting tone it always did when he was beginning to explain a theory. "When you went to Hell, the hounds tore you apart. You were dead. It was just your soul that was sent downstairs."

Dean cringed at the memory. "Yeah, I kind of remember that part, Sammy. What are you getting at?"

"When I fell into the cage, I was still alive. My guess is that only souls that are no longer tethered to this life can pass through."

"So you, what? Bounced back?"

Sam shrugged. "I guess."

"But Lucifer was still trapped."

Sam nodded. "He's not in me anymore. At least I can't feel him."

Dean thought for a moment before responding. "So you think his… essence… or whatever was trapped because he wasn't really 'tethered' to you? Because he was just hitching a ride?"

Sam shrugged again, his expression grim. "I have no idea, man. I just know that one minute I was falling into the pit and the next thing I remember I was back on good old terra firma."

Dean frowned, his mind working at what his brother had told him. "So… you don't think you were ever really in Hell."

Sam shook his head. "No. I don't think so."

Dean nodded slowly, his eyes carefully trained on the empty cup on the table in front of him. "If you weren't in Hell…" he slowly raised his head, his eyes tracking up to his brother's face. "Where exactly have you been for the past week, Sammy?"

Sam swallowed hard, his own eyes shifting away from his brother's gaze.

"At first… I… I don't know. But for the last week…here."

Dean's eyebrows climbed and he leaned forward a bit. "Excuse me?"

Sam waved a hand toward the front of the house, still avoiding his brother's intense stare. "Here," he repeated. "Around."

Dean waited until Sam's eyes met his before asking his next question. "Are you telling me that you've been… around… for like a week and didn't think that maybe it would be a good idea to let me know?"

Sam dropped his gaze again. "I wanted you to have a chance, Dean."

"A chance? A chance at what? A chance to live a life believing my brother was suffering? You think I was ever going to be okay with that, Sam?"

Sam shrugged. "I thought… I hoped you'd be able to move on."

Dean snorted out a harsh laugh that held no humor. "Move on? Damnit, Sam, I spent every second of every day imagining what kind of torment you were going through. And, if you remember, I'm probably the only one on this freakin' planet who could even come close to knowing how bad it really is." He cringed at the volume of his voice and made an effort to reign in his anger. "All I wanted to do was to walk into Hell and find you. But I was stuck in a promise you made me make." He shook his head, his face flushed as he watched his brother. "I could never forget, Sam. Never. How could you believe I could?"

Sam finally looked up and Dean could see the regret shining in his eyes. "I just wanted you to have a life, Dean. That's all. When I popped back up at Stull, you were gone. I hoped you'd keep your promise so I found my way here. I saw you…" His smiled shakily. "I saw you at the table. You and Lisa and Ben… you looked… you looked so normal. I just didn't want to take that chance away from you."

Dean leaned an elbow on the table and rubbed at his forehead just below the butterfly bandages Lisa had applied earlier to hold the cut closed. "Sammy, you are the dumbest smart person I have ever known."

Sam choked out a laugh. "Which is ironic since you're the smartest dumb person I've ever known."

They sat in silence for a few minutes, both thinking about how far the other had gone in an attempt to make the other happy.

"So," Dean finally broke the quiet. "Besides the fact that two demons were kicking my ass, why did you show up?"

"Like that wasn't reason enough?"

"I would've handled it." Dean defended himself.

Sam chuckled, the laugh lighter than the previous one. "Right. You were doing such a bang-up job when I stepped in. You looked a little rusty there, tiger."

"Just answer the question, smartass."

"I ran across a demon on my way here from Lawrence. It told me they were looking for you."

Dean shrugged. "Lucifer is gone… apocalypse averted… why find me now?"

Sam straightened in the chair and leaned both arms on the table. "They know you have the key."

"The key to Lucifer's cage?"

Sam nodded.

"Huh," Dean shook his head. "I don't."

Sam leaned forward a bit. "Then where is it?"

Dean opened his mouth to respond then closed it quickly, sending a look of regret across the table.

"You won't tell me." Sam's question was more of a statement.

Dean shrugged again. "I believe you're you, Sammy. I do. But…"

Sam held up a hand. "It's cool, man. I'd be disappointed in you if you did just blurt it out in the open like this. Just tell me it's somewhere safe."

Dean nodded slowly. "It's somewhere safe."

Sam took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "Good. Unfortunately, you're not. Those demons smoked out before I could kill them, so who knows how many they'll bring back here." He gave his brother a look of regret. "We can't stay here, Dean. And neither can Lisa and Ben. We need a plan."

"I know," Dean sighed, rubbing again at the ache that was increasing inside his head. "We need to call Bobby."

Sam frowned. "Bobby?" He sat forward slightly, his brows drawing together in confusion. "But… Lucifer. I saw it… He killed Bobby, Dean. Cas, too. I felt it, man. I couldn't do anything, but he made sure I saw everything. Especially what he did to you."

Dean sighed. "Yeah, but God brought Cas back – or at least Cas believes it was God that brought him back. Whoever, or whatever, did it, Cas was brought back with all his angel mojo in tact. He healed me, he brought Bobby back." He shrugged, not knowing what to believe, let alone say to his brother about what had happened.

"So… do you think God saved me?"

"Honestly, man, I don't know what to think." Dean had been lost ever since his brother had fallen into that hole and he'd never truly allowed himself to consider the possibility, let alone form an opinion. He'd told Cas that he was angry with God. He still was. But if it was the big guy that had saved his brother… well, then maybe Dean could give him a pass just this once. "Does it really matter? God or not, you're here, I'm here and we're right back in the middle of it."

Sam snuffed a laugh through his nose. "You'd think we'd be used to that by now." He raised his head and gave his brother a sympathetic grin. "You need to talk to Lisa."

Dean closed his eyes and rubbed at the lids, shaking his head slowly. "And the hits just keep on comin'."

TBC


	2. Chapter 2

**ACT II**

Goodbyes were never really Dean's thing. Maybe it was because he was never the one doing the leaving but usually the one being left. After his conversation with Sam, he'd made his way up to the room he'd been sharing with Lisa, taking the better part of the next two hours explaining all things Winchester. He'd told her about their life, how they'd been raised, about Dad and about Hell. He'd explained their part in the apocalypse and the averting of such, never once able to look her in the eyes to see if she was even buying into any of it. By the time he was through, he could feel the oppressive silence almost threatening to crush him, grind him right through the queen size mattress.

It had taken them less time to get Ben up and packed, having finally convinced Lisa that they weren't safe in their own home either. If demons came looking for Dean, they would be collateral damage and Dean cared far too much for them to let that happen. The initial plan was to take them to Bobby's until they could regroup and figure out something a little more long-term, but calls to the salvage yard and to Bobby's cell had gone unanswered. That, in itself, was something that worried both Winchesters.

Lisa had actually been the one to come up with plan B. She'd been planning a trip to see an old friend, someone who had a son Ben's age, but had been putting it off since Dean had literally dropped onto her doorstep. A quick call, a hasty apology for the lateness – or earliness – of the request, and she was packed and ready to head to Minneapolis.

Dean said goodbye to Ben, who was still only half awake, helping the boy get tucked into the back seat of Lisa's Honda. Sam had simply given her an apologetic smile and retreated to the safety of the Impala, trying hard not to look like he was eavesdropping on his brother's goodbye.

Dean stood next to the open driver's side door, leaning against the outside as Lisa, wedged into the opening, leaned from the other side. With the door between them, only their foreheads touched, their eyes closed as if savoring the last moments together.

"I'm sorry," Dean whispered, his voice shaking slightly, surprised at how hard it was to say goodbye. He'd dropped into this woman's life and she'd never hesitated to hold out her arms to him. She'd never asked why he'd come, never questioned his grief. She'd simply been there, a shoulder to cry on, a warm body to lean on until he was able to stand on his own. She'd asked nothing in return, had simply been thankful for having him there.

She deserved so much more.

"I'm not," she raised her head and smiled up at him. Her eyes swam in tears, but the sadness was mixed with a soft caring. "I never knew exactly who you were, Dean Winchester, but over the years, I'll admit I had a few fantasies." Her smile turned into a mischievous grin and Dean couldn't help but return it.

"Fantasies, huh?"

She nodded her head, curling her bottom lip under her front teeth. "A few. But, I think the real thing is so much better."

Dean swallowed, wishing he could give her the life she deserved. "I'm not so sure."

She reached up and wiped a tear from her cheek before extending her arm over the top of the door and placing it along his jaw. "I am."

"Lisa, I'm so sorry. I never meant to screw up your life like this."

"I know," she responded. "I can't say I'm thrilled that… and I can't believe I'm saying this … demons are coming after us, but I don't believe any of this is your fault, Dean." She shook her head and ducked down a little to catch his eyes. "I want you to know I don't blame you. And I'm glad you came to us, came to me. Just promise me something."

Dean took a breath and dropped his eyes. "Lisa..."

"Promise me you'll do everything you can to come home."

"Lisa…" he raised his head, not sure if he was capable of promising anything. "I can't…"

"I'm not asking you to promise to come back, Dean. I'm asking you to try. That's all."

Dean swallowed and looked into her eyes, seeing everything he'd ever wanted. He knew what she was offering. He just wasn't sure if it was fair of him to accept it. He sighed softly, finally nodding. "I can do that."

"Good."

He leaned down and gave her a kiss, pulling back for a moment before giving her a second filled with passion and promise. As they broke apart, she looked up and gave him a sad smile, then, without another word, climbed behind the wheel of the car and started the engine.

Dean pushed the door closed and stepped back, holding her eyes as she backed out of the driveway. He watched as the car drove down the street, not moving until the red of the taillights was lost in the early glow of the breaking dawn.

Slowly he made his way to the Impala, sliding into the drivers seat. He didn't start the car, just sat staring at the empty house he'd lived in for the last month.

"She okay?"

Sam' voice cut through the silence and Dean turned his head slightly toward his brother. "Yeah. I guess." He shrugged, a weary sigh pulling from his lips. "Hell, I don't know."

"You love her?"

Dean wasn't sure how to answer that question. He knew he cared about Lisa and he wasn't kidding when he'd told her he'd be proud to be Ben's dad. But love? Maybe. In time. But right now they had a job to do and he couldn't afford to let something like emotions distract him from what was going on around them.

Welcome back to Winchester World.

"Did you get a hold of Bobby?"

He knew Sam recognized the deflection, and Dean silently thanked his brother for having the good grace not to comment.

"No. Still goes straight to voicemail."

"So, we head to South Dakota."

Sam nodded as Dean started the engine, smiling at the familiar sound of the Impala. "We head to South Dakota."

….

Singer Salvage was quiet… almost unnaturally so… which in their line of work, was not totally unexpected, but still unnerving. As Dean cut the rumbling engine of the Impala, both hunters opened their doors and stepped out onto the hard packed dirt strip that served as Bobby's driveway. Sam closed his door and leaned back against the metal as Dean leaned across the top of the car, his eyes narrowed as he surveyed the property.

"Doesn't look like he's been here for a while," Sam observed, finishing his own visual assessment of the salvage yard.

Dean shook his head. "I've got a bad feeling, Sammy."

"As you should."

Both hunters turned toward the house, fighting the impulse to draw their weapons when they caught sight of the demon on the porch.

"Crowley," Dean growled, stepping back and slamming the driver's door closed. He stalked around the front of the Impala and approached the steps of the house even as the well-dressed demon held up a hand in sublimation.

"Now, now, is that anyway to greet an old friend?"

Dean didn't bother to acknowledge the question. "Where's Bobby?" He stopped short of the porch, feeling his brother's reassuring presence at his back.

Crowley stepped forward, dropping down onto the top step with a jaunty hop. "Coincidentally, that is the exact question I was going to ask you." He looked behind Dean, a knowing smile lifting the corners of his mouth as his eyes met Sam's. "I do have to admit I am a bit surprised to see you, Sam. I guess your little dance with the devil went off much better than I'd ever imagined. Apparently I underestimated you."

"Apparently." Sam's tone was biting and Dean couldn't quite suppress an expression of pride.

"I'm not going to ask you again," Dean stepped forward until he was standing on the step directly below Crowley, the height difference bringing them face-to-face. "Where. Is. Bobby."

Crowley shrugged, unperturbed by the ire on the hunter's face. He thrust his hands into the pockets of his overcoat and stepped around Dean to the ground. "It seems Bobby is not home at the moment." He turned once he was past the brothers and gave them a cheeky smile. "Perhaps you could leave him a note."

Dean started toward the demon, but Sam placed a firm hand on his arm, thwarting his progress.

"Dean…"

"Sam," Dean tried to shake his brother off, but the grip was firm. "Bobby's missing, demons came after me, and now we find this windbag here. Do the math, dude."

Sam nodded, his eyes flicking toward Crowley before shifting back to his brother. "I don't think he knows anything, man." At Dean's look of exasperation, he quickly continued. "Think about it. I know he's a demon, but Crowley is probably the last… thing… that would want to see Lucifer free."

Dean let his brother's words sink in. His gut was telling him that whatever was happening with Bobby was somehow connected with his own status as number one on the demon hit parade, but Crowley had been instrumental in helping them find the last two horsemen and wasn't exactly on Lucifer's Christmas Card list. He sighed and shook his head in exasperation, reluctantly accepting that his brother was right. He patted Sam's hand, nodding when the younger man released his hold.

He turned back to Crowley. "Then why are you here?"

Crowley spread his hands in front of him. "Why, to conclude our bargain, of course."

Dean frowned, exchanging a look with Sam. "You mean to return his soul?"

Crowley smiled innocently. "That was the deal, yes?"

"So, you need to…" Sam waved a hand in front of his face, "…you know…kiss again?"

"It's not strictly necessary, no," the demon admitted. "But I do like to see the look on a person's face when they realize there is such a thing as an honorable demon. I was especially looking forward to seeing Bobby's expression considering him being a hunter and all." He looked between the brothers, his smile growing. "But the looks on your mugs is satisfying enough."

"So," Dean's voice was hesitant, not really believing the part about demons being honorable. "Bobby's soul is back where it belongs? Just like that"

Crowley snapped his fingers. "Just like that," he echoed. "Now, if you two would excuse me, I do have work to do." He turned toward the driveway, then stopped and held up a Columbo-esgue hand. "Oh yes, I almost forgot." He turned toward Dean, his grin replaced by a look of complete seriousness. "If I were you, I'd think twice before trusting anyone, Dean. As long as my kind believe you have the means to release their prince, you should watch your back… and your front… and both sides if possible."

Dean smirked as he verbally brushed off the demon's warning. "Just some advice from an old friend?"

Crowley glanced at Sam, one eyebrow rising before focusing back on the older hunter. "Something like that."

And in a blink of an eye, he vanished.

"I really hate that," Dean muttered. He waved a hand at Sam as he turned and trudged back up the stairs. "Let's check the place out."

….

Dean had always thought of the inside of Bobby Singer's house as controlled chaos. It was good to know that some things didn't change. Every surface of the living and dining room, as well as the library was covered in books, papers - research - the thing Bobby did best.

Since regaining the use of his legs, not to mention the loss of the Winchesters from the ranks, Bobby had obviously decided to take a more hands-on approach to hunting. A quick scan of the research found three distinct cases; a poltergeist in Iowa; a possible rugaru in Ohio and what Bobby had assessed to be demonic omens in Montana.

"You think Bobby would've gone after demons alone?" Sam asked as he shifted through the meteorological printouts stacked on the desk.

Dean pursed his lips in thought for a moment before frowning and shaking his head. "Bobby's careful. No way he would've done something that stupid."

Sam nodded in agreement. "Okay, then he either went after a poltergeist or a rugaru." He raised his head and focused on his brother who was still sifting through some of the old mechanic's research. "We can head to Dayton, stop in Waterloo on the way?"

Dean nodded absently. "Guess that's the only option." He tossed the paperwork down on the credenza and shook his head. "I just hope he made it there."

The ringing of Bobby's phone startled both hunters and they exchanged surprised looks. Shrugging, Dean stepped across the floor and picked up the phone, frowning as he spoke.

"Singer Salvage," he announced in a low voice.

_"Bobby?"_

Dean's eyes widened at the sound of the familiar voice.

"Rufus?"

He turned toward Sam who had risen from the chair, his own eyes wide with surprise.

_"Dean?" _Rufus seemed just as surprised to hear Dean's voice as Dean was to hear his.

"Yeah, man."

_"Where's Singer?"_

Dean sighed and rubbed his forehead. "That is the question of the day. We've been trying to get in touch with him since yesterday, but he's not answering his cell, and he's definitely not here."

_"Last I heard he was heading out after a rugaru in Dayton,"_ Rufus offered. _"But that was a while ago."_

"Yeah," Dean nodded. "We found some of his research. Guess that's the next stop."

_"You think he's in trouble?"_

Dean took a deep breath and flashed a look of concern to his brother. "Demons came after me... it's possible they might go after Bobby, too."

There was a moment of silence on the line as the old hunter considered the statement. _"You think this has something to do with what you all did at Stull?"_

"You heard about that, huh?"

_"Yep."_

Dean chuckled, remembering the drink he shared with the older man what seemed like a lifetime ago.

"Because you 'hear things', right?"

_"Yep."_ Rufus gave a low laugh. _"Bobby told me what happened. Said you'd retired from the life." _When Dean didn't respond, he sighed. _"But the life don't retire from you, does it?"_

"Guess not."

"_Well, take it from me, kid, once the dark side has a hold of you, there ain't no going back. Thought you'd learned that lesson from your old man."_

Dean cleared his throat, beginning to grown uncomfortable with the path of the conversation. "So you think Bobby headed to Dayton?"

"_That's what he told me. I was gonna meet up with him but something came up and I didn't make it. But, like you said, he's not answering his cell so I thought I'd try the yard."_

Dean nodded, even though the older hunter couldn't see him. "Well if you do hear from him, let us know."

"_You got it, kid. If you're going after him alone, you be careful."_

It occurred to Dean that Bobby hadn't known Sam was alive, therefore as far as Rufus was concerned, the younger Winchester had perished along with Lucifer back at Stull. Something told him that until they found Bobby, it was better to keep it that way. "Thanks, you too." Dean hung the phone up and leaned against the desk.

"So," Sam leaned from the other side of the wide wooden desk. "I take it we're gonna hunt a rugaru?"

Dean shrugged then shook his head once. "I still think that's made up."

TBC


	3. Chapter 3

**ACT III**

Dayton, Ohio was a large city with rush hour traffic rivaling any industrial city they had ever visited. Bobby's research had given them a name and a quick call to the phone company from special Agent Thomas Shaw had garnered them an address and number. They parked themselves outside the home of Marcus Damon and settled in to wait for a sighting of either Bobby or the monster of the week.

Sam was able to hijack a wi-fi signal from an unprotected source in the neighborhood and fired up the laptop to check the local news. He quickly found a story about a gruesome murder that had happened just the night before which fit the M.O. of their rugaru. The murder had happened just a few blocks over, in the alley behind a mini-mart. Hacking into the police database was simple and soon they had details of the crime.

"Looks like Bobby didn't make it as far as Dayton," Sam surmised as he perused the coroner's report. "The body was found in pieces…" he made a sour face and swallowed hard. "… what was left of it anyway." He closed the screen and shifted to look past his brother at the suspect's house. "It fits." He concluded. "If Bobby's right, then this guy is still killing. "

"So where the hell is Bobby?"

Sam shrugged. "Not here," he answered needlessly. "So what do you want to do?"

Dean sighed. What he wanted to do was find his friend. They had no idea how long he'd actually been missing and longer the older hunter was out of touch, the more he worried they may never find him. Bobby was a careful hunter – probably the sharpest hunter they knew – and he wouldn't have been easy to take down. He couldn't shake the feeling that the attack back at Lisa's and Bobby's disappearance were connected, and that gave him a pit in his stomach. He was worried. If the demons were searching for the key, they wouldn't have been able to find Dean thanks to the hex bags he constantly carried, but they'd know right where to find Bobby. The mechanic was alone and Dean knew from experience that hunting alone was never a good idea no matter how careful you were.

Bobby's research had been thorough. They knew who and what he'd been hunting. And now they knew where. As much as Dean wanted to find his friend, he knew they had to take care of this first. Saving people, hunting things… the family business was still the family business and they couldn't turn their back on a hunt that was right in front of them.

Dean turned in his seat and met his brother's eyes. It was obvious that Sam was wiling to follow his lead on this. The younger man knew how much Bobby meant to Dean. Dean even suspected that his brother knew how much Dean needed someone to fall back on when the responsibility got to be too much. After Dad had died, that person had been Bobby. So if Dean decided finding their friend was more important, he was convinced Sam wouldn't put up an argument.

But that wasn't how they were raised. And it wasn't how Dad trained them.

There was a hunt right here. People were getting killed and they could stop it.

Bobby would understand.

Hell, he'd probably tear them a new one if they ignored this just to search for him.

Dean turned back to the window, a distorted face peaking out from behind the drawn shades of the picture window making the decision for them. "Looks like we're gonna gank us a monster."

….

The hunt went as well as any hunt could. Armed with makeshift flame throwers, Sam coming at the fugly from one side, Dean from the other. Trapped between the two hunters it had to choose a course, which inevitably led it toward one of the brothers. Moving with unnatural speed, Marcus Damon - or what used to be Marcus Damon - slammed into the older Winchester, knocking him down and across the glass coffee table, shattering it into a million pieces. Slightly dazed and more than a bit pissed at the deja vu replay of their last rugaru hunt, Dean fumbled with uncooperative hands to reach his flamethrower only to hear his brother's deep voice.

"Hey!"

Dean tilted his head up and blinked a few times to clear his vision which coalesced into one picture just in time to see the rugaru lunge for Sam. The younger hunter didn't so much as flinch as he calmly and coolly lit the flamethrower and aimed, sending a shower of orange heat arcing toward the monster. A slight grin lifted the corner of Sam's mouth as Damon screamed, thrashing about as it tried in vain to save itself, finally falling into a heap into the corner of the room, the acrid smell of burning flesh permeating the small space.

Dean's eyes were glued to the image of the flames dancing up the wall, the body of the rugaru shrinking into a pile of goo against the hardwood floor. He jumped when he felt a hand on his leg and shifted his eyes to take in the now warm and concerned glance of his brother.

"You okay?"

Dean swallowed, trying to reconcile the person in front of him with the cold, calculated hunter from just a moment ago. Sam had wanted to save the last rugaru they'd hunted, this one hadn't gotten that consideration. It was a quick death, and Dean wasn't sure he liked the sudden professionalism his brother had shown.

"Dean?" Sam leaned forward, his hand coming up to wipe at a cut on Dean's cheek. "Hey, man, come on. We need to get out of here."

Dean swallowed and nodded, reaching a hand up to grasp his brother's. He closed his eyes as Sam pulled him upright, breathing shallowly until the room righted itself. If he never saw another rugaru as long as he lived, it would be too damn soon.

He opened his eyes to see Sam watching him, a knowing smile in his lips. "Rugarus just aren't your thing, dude."

Dean wanted to come back with something clever and snarky, but all he could see was the expression of …satisfaction… on his brother's face as he set fire to the monster. Maybe he'd imagined it, maybe it was his memories playing tricks on him… maybe he'd just been through too much in the last few years…

This was Sam in front of him. The brother he'd always known. The brother he'd help raise… train…

Wasn't it?

He was suddenly aware of Sam's eyes dipping low to meet his own… Sam's very concerned, very normal hazel eyes… Dean blinked, brushing away his doubt as he read the worry on Sam's face.

"Shut up."

Sam laughed out loud and helped him pick his way out of the broken glass, stepping over what was left of the metal frame of the table. One last look into the corner showed the monster burning, the wall and floor beginning to catch.

"We just gonna let the place burn?"

"We'll call it in as soon as we leave," Sam shrugged. "The fire department should respond in less than five minutes. They should be able to save the house, but..."

"They'll discover the body," Dean finished for him. He shook himself, his head starting to clear from his impromptu dive into the table. "We better go."

With a nod, Sam led the way to the door, sticking a head outside to make sure the coast was clear, then without a look back at the monster on the floor, headed out into the night.

….

Dean rolled down the window slightly, the fresh air helping ease the headache that flared every time a car passed, bright headlights flooding the inside of the Impala. Sam had tried to talk him into letting him take the wheel, but Dean had always been able to think better when he was driving. Not that he really wanted to think. But the niggling doubt in his brain was inching its way to the surface and he knew it wasn't going to just go away.

What was really bothering him? Sam had handled the rugaru efficiently and without hesitation or emotion. Isn't that what he was supposed to do?

Maybe... but when was the last time Sam had handled any hunt without emotion? When he was with Ruby? When he was high on demon blood? Even after Lillith, when everything had been spiraling out of control, Dean could still see what kind of a toll the life took on his little brother. How much he'd been trying to redeem himself for what he'd believed he'd done. Emotionless and efficient… that wasn't who is brother was.

Sam was supposed to brood, wonder if they were doing the right thing... not simply kill and move on.

But Sam had changed. They both had. Maybe Dean was reading more into things than was really there. Maybe it was Dean that was the problem. What happened at Stull - hell, what had happened since Hell - had taken its toll on both of them Sam had danced with the devil and Dean had been out of hunting for the last month, letting his grief and despair get the better of him. Good or bad, neither of them were the men they used to be. Maybe he just needed to accept that.

"What's wrong?"

Sam's voice startled him from his thoughts and he turned slightly at the intrusion. "Huh?"

"What's wrong?" Sam repeated, a slight smile playing at his lips.

Dean frowned, turning his attention back to the road. "Nothing."

"Right. Dean, you're brooding. I can hear your brain whirling from over here. Just get it out."

_I'm wondering if you're really you._ Yeah, that would go over like a ton of bricks.

Dean shook his head, fidgeting a bit in his seat. "Nothing's wrong, Sam. And I don't brood. That's your emo-therapy territory."

Sam huffed in annoyance and turned back to the passenger window. "Fine."

"Fine." Dean cringed at the petulance in his own voice. He sighed, fighting with his brother wasn't what he wanted. He was glad Sam was back and… okay, but he couldn't help wondering if what he had seen back in Ohio had been real or just his paranoid imagination. "So… " he offered, trying to keep his voice light, offering an olive branch. "You want to talk about it?"

Sam turned his head, a frown of confusion on his face. "What? The rugaru?"

"No. You know…" Dean waved a hand absently in the air, letting his eyes drift momentarily to his brother. "Lucifer."

Sam turned back to the front, his eyes carefully trained on the road outside. I told you, man. I don't remember."

"You remember what it felt like to have Lucifer take you over. That had to be... awful."

Sam took a deep breath and released it, and Dean found himself holding his own in… anticipation? Fear? Whatever it was, he was willing to dredge up the horrors of his time in Hell if it would help his brother get through his own.

"I can't, Dean." Sam's voice was soft and his head dropped to his chest, his eyes closed. "I just… to be so close to pure evil… it's just…"

"Hard to find the words?" Dean offered. Yeah, he could relate.

"I guess," Sam responded with a sad chuckle. "I know you want to help, man. And I love you for it, but… I'm not sure anyone can."

Dean nodded, his grip on the steering wheel tightening. He understood. When he'd returned from the pit, there was nothing anyone could've said or done that would make what he'd endured any easier. He lied about not remembering, knowing that if he could make Sam believe it, it could maybe make it easier for him to forget himself. But that had proven impossible. What he'd seen, what he'd done, it was seared into his brain. The best he could've hoped for was to somehow bury it deep enough that he'd still be able to function, and, once he'd come clean about remembering and stopped trying to pretend he didn't, he'd been able to do that. But it took time. And he knew Sam was going to need that to come to terms with his own version of Hell.

His eyes flicked to the rearview mirror, narrowing at the headlights reflected as the Chevy crested a small hill. He sat up straighter, his senses suddenly on alert.

"What?" Sam had always been able to read him.

"Probably nothing."

Sam followed his brother's eyes to the mirror and quickly spun around, his brows rising as he noticed the headlights trailing at least two hundred yards behind them.

"Brooding and paranoid?"

Dean dipped his head to the side, his eyes shifting from the mirror to the road ahead. "You know what Dad always said..."

Sam nodded and swung back around to face front. "Just because you're paranoid, doesn't mean someone's not out to get you."

"Yahtzee," Dean grinned. "Considering our usual playmates..." He trailed off again, knowing his brother would get the hint.

"Okay," Sam drawled. "So, if we are being tailed, you think it's got something to do with Bobby?"

Dean shrugged. "Maybe. We finish a hunt he was supposed to be on. He's suddenly AWOL… Hell of a coincidence."

Sam sighed. "And we don't believe in coincidence." He sat forward, his eyes glued to the headlights in the side mirror. "So, what now? Stop them and find out who the hell they are?"

Dean pursed his lips and shook his head. "I've got a better idea." He jutted his chin forward, indicating a sign for a truck stop just off the highway about a quarter of a mile ahead. Cresting another small hill, Dean floored the accelerator, causing Sam to grab for the dashboard as the big car shot down the asphalt at close to 90 miles per hour. It only took them a few minutes to close the distance between them and the truck stop. As they approached, Dean killed the lights, taking the entrance ramp at a dangerous speed and expertly guiding the Impala into a spot behind a large tanker truck. Effectively hidden from the highway, Dean killed the engine and waited, his eyes watching the highway from around the front end of the semi.

It was only a few minutes until the car cruised by, slowing slightly before picking up speed and continuing down the dark highway.

"Recognize it?" Sam asked, his eyes following the dark sedan like his brother's.

"Late models all look alike," Dean admitted. "But there was a dark sedan behind us at the light a few blocks from Damon's."

Sam nodded trustingly. "Think it's the same one?"

"Only one way to find out."

Dean started the car, the rumble of the engine filling the silence that had engulfed the night. He pulled out onto the highway, accelerating to catch up to the sedan, then slowing to stay far enough back to not raise suspicion.

"Think they're dumb enough not to notice?"

Dean shrugged again. "Maybe. How many demons do you know that watch TV cop shows?"

Sam laughed out loud. "Maybe it's part of their 'Welcome Topside' training."

They rode in silence for a while, careful not to get too close as the city disappeared behind them. The car finally turned onto a dirt road well into the Ohio countryside. Dean pulled the Impala to the side of the highway and killed the lights, both hunters watching as the car traveled to a small, run-down farm house a little ways off the road.

"Maybe it was just an old couple driving home from dinner?" Sam volunteered in a hopeful voice.

"Yeah," Dean's tone was a bit more sarcastic. "Driving a brand new Lexus?"

Sam turned and gave his brother a grin. "I thought all new model cars looked alike?"

Dean rolled his eyes in response.

He pulled the Impala off onto the dirt road, easing her down the path and parking under the deep shadowy cover of a large oak tree about fifty yards away from the house. From there they could make out a slight glow behind the boarded windows. It wasn't a clear night, but the cloud cover was intermittent and the moon shined down enough to illuminate the house and surrounding property, including the familiar van parked along the far side of the ramshackle dwelling.

"Bobby's van," Sam pointed out needlessly.

"Guess it's not Ma and Pa Kettle out for a midnight drive, huh?"

Sam sighed loudly. "Maybe we should call Cas."

"How?" Dean turned to him, his eyes reflecting the moonlight. "I doubt they have great cell reception in Heaven." He shook his head and turned back to the house. "Besides, even if we could get word to him, he's the new sheriff up there. He's got his hands full. We'll have to muddle through without the angelic assist."

Sam nodded in agreement. "Still, we're walking into what's probably a trap."

"Wouldn't be the first time."

Sam sighed in agreement. "Don't suppose you have a plan?"

"Besides break down the front door, grab Bobby and run?"

"Yeah, Dean. Besides that."

Dean thought for a moment before he shook his head. "Nope. You?"

Sam reluctantly repeated his brother's action.

Dean gave a decisive bob of his head and took a deep breath. "Plan A it is."

….

The night was still, the clouds thick enough to shadow their movements as they slowly crept up toward the small farmhouse. The overgrown grass surrounding the property gave them cover, but made silent progress nearly impossible. As soon as they broke through the higher weeds surrounding the edge of the main yard, they crouched down, carefully staying in the shadows of the house.

Taking a deep breath, Dean crab-walked closer to the house, leaning against the outer wall and he slowly angled himself toward the side window. In the low light coming from the one visible room, he could see their friend, tied to an old wooden chair in the center of the room, his head bowed, frighteningly still. He wasn't able to see the older man's face, swallowing back the thought that maybe they were too late. As far as he could see, there was no blood staining bobby's clothes or the floor around him, so maybe he was simply knocked out, or – Dean couldn't help but hope – simply playing possum.

Forcing his eyes to move on, the hunter noticed a man sitting in another chair a few yards in front of Bobby, his back to the front wall of the house directly next to the front door. The man sat as still as Bobby, but his head was up and alert, his dark eyes trained at the mechanic as if waiting for any sign of movement.

There were oil lamps and candles lit around the room, throwing shadows against the walls. Movement of one of the shadows told Dean there was at least one more person in the room, just out of his line of sight. He guessed there was at least one other somewhere inside the house, knowing the two they had followed probably wouldn't have been stupid enough to leave Bobby unguarded, even if the older man had been unconscious at the time.

He leaned back against the outer wall and quickly held up three fingers to his brother. Sam nodded once in understanding then quirked his head toward the back of the house, his brows rising in silent question.

Dean hesitated. Splitting up was the best strategy, but somehow that never really seemed to work out for them. Of course, not knowing where the third demon – if there was one – made it strategically more intelligent to come at them from both sides, covering both exits and flanking the bad guys before they could mount a counter attack. Bobby was going to be caught in the middle – there was just no way to avoid that given the current situation, but coming at them from both sides would give them enough of an initial surprise that they should be able to eliminate at least one if not two of the bogeys before the demons even knew what hit them.

That is if they didn't know already.

Reluctantly, Dean nodded, watching as Sam slowly slid away from the house and disappeared around the corner toward the back. He knew his brother's moves as well as Sam knew his and was confident in their ability to synchronize their movements. He wouldn't let any doubts make hi hesitate. Not with Bobby's life at stake. This was Sam. It would be just like old times.

TBC


	4. Chapter 4

**Act IV**

Dean closed his eyes for a moment, and took a deep breath, letting his nerves settle before crouching down and silently making his way toward the front of the house. He knew the first demon was just inside the door to the left, the second somewhere on the other side of the front room, with Bobby smack in between. He'd have to shoot high in hopes of not hitting the other hunter, praying his brother was smart enough to stay low also. He held the Colt in his hands, thankful that they still had the gun even though its usefulness in their quest to kill Lucifer had been less than stellar. Despite its lack of effect on the devil, the old Colt was still a formidable weapon against regular run-of-the-mill demons and Dean felt more confident with the weight of it in his hand.

Bringing himself to his full height directly in front of the front door, he took a deep breath and released it before raising his left leg and slamming it into the wood just below the latch. The door splintered inward and he took a step inside, quickly turning and aiming the gun at the demon guarding Bobby. The demon started to rise, a twisted smile on it's haggard face as Dean pulled the trigger. The bullet hit the demon, forcing it back and away from the chair. Lights flashed inside the body as the magic of Samuel Colt's gun did its work, eradicating the demonic presence from the body it was riding as well as the world.

Without hesitation, Dean turned to the rest of the room, aiming the gun at the second demon that stood behind Bobby. His breath caught in his throat as the lamplight reflected off the large blade the demon held at his friend's throat.

"Get away from him," Dean ordered in a low voice.

"Or what?" the demon sneered. "You'll kill he? Shoot me with your magic gun?"

Dean simply pulled back the hammer of the Colt in response.

"Go ahead," the demon grinned, pulling Bobby's head higher, exposing the red blood that began to trickle down his neck as the blade started to dig into the skin. "Shoot me, boy. And I'll make sure I take your friend's head down with me."

Dean flicked his eyes to Bobby's face, hoping to see a sign that the older man was awake.

"Oh, he's alive," the demon continued. "But he's not going to be able to help you."

Dean frowned. "Help me with what?" Where the hell was Sam? He should've heard the front door crash in and been through the back and taken this freak out by now. Unless things weren't exactly as he'd believed…

He felt more than heard the movement behind him. Dropping his arm, Dean turned quickly only to be greeted by the butt of a gun to his head. The smiling face of a third demon was the last thing he saw as he dropped to the floor.

…..

He didn't exactly lose consciousness. He was aware if the feel of grit beneath his cheek as he was rolled onto his stomach, he was aware of the pull of muscle as his arms were wrenched forward and yanked, he was aware of the burn of the old wood floor beneath him as he was dragged and unceremoniously dumped back onto the floor after a few yards. He was also aware of the feeling of Bobby's legs against his back and he knew the old man was awake by the two small yet firm taps against him.

He groaned and turned onto his side, opening his eyes, waiting a moment for them to focus on the pair of shoes before him.

"Wake up," the harsh voice was not one he recognized, but the condescending tone was one he was all too familiar with.

"Or what?" he asked slowly. "You gonna knock me out again? That's kind of defeating the purpose, don't ya think?"

He was prepared for the swift kick that connected with his stomach, able to tense his muscles to absorb the blow.

"Yeah," he said breathlessly as he curled in to protect himself. "That's gonna help. You morons always been this smart?"

A second blow was mostly blocked by his arm, which swung up at the last moment and caught the demon's leg, carrying it up and over, causing the body to loose its balance and topple back.

"Enough!"

The voice stopped him halfway to his feet and he pivoted in his crouch to see the second demon, still holding the blade to Bobby's throat. A quick look at his friend showed the old mechanic's eyes open and staring at him with a mixture of caution and remorse.

Dean grinned, the side of his mouth rising sardonically. "Hell of a rescue, huh?"

Bobby simply rolled his eyes, his opinion of plan obvious.

"Nice of you to join us, Dean."

Slowly rising to his feet, Dean swallowed as the world tilted for a moment before squaring his shoulders and turning fully toward the demon. He stared at it passively from under hooded eyes, giving no reaction to the taunt.

"A simple invitation would've been fine."

The demon pulled Bobby's head back further and tilted the blade to catch the flickering lamplight. "Oh, but that's exactly what this is, boy. An engraved invitation." It slowly drew the blade across Bobby's neck, leaving a thin trail of blood behind.

"You hurt him and I swear to God you will never get what you're after."

The demon smiled. "So you do know what we're after." It nodded and released Bobby, taking a small step back. "Fine. You give me the key, I give you your friend."

"Right. Because demons are so good at making deals."

"We are rather adept at the art, wouldn't you say?"

Dean's lips tightened into a sneer. "Like I should trust you to keep your word."

The demon frowned, putting a hand to its chest as if wounded. "Why Dean, I'm surprised. When has one of my kind ever gone back on a deal? You made a deal to go to Hell. I'm sure you remember how that worked out, right? Now I'm offering you the life of your good friend Bobby here for just a small, insignificant little trinket."

"Insignificant?" Dean scoffed. "After everything we went through to put Lucifer back into that cage, you think I'm just going to hand you the means to get him back out?"

The demon shrugged. "Your choice really. I thought I'd offer you a chance to save what's left of your family.. but if you'd rather play a martyr…." It stepped back toward Bobby, the knife tapping against the mechanics shoulder. "I'd be just as happy to play it that way."

Dean chanced a glance at his friend, relieved to see the look of trust shining from the man's eyes. A sad smile lifted the corners of Bobby's mouth and he gave Dean a slight nod, letting the younger man know he had no problem accepting his fate.

The demon sighed as he witnessed the exchange, shaking his head in mock remorse. "Dean, Dean, Dean. When will you learn. We will get what we want one way or another."

"How?" Dean asked, eyebrows rising as he turned his attention back to the demon. "You kill him and you've lost any leverage you had. You kill me and you'll never know where the damn key is."

The demon narrowed his eyes, not liking the insolence in the young man's voice. "We won't kill you, Dean. Not right away."

"Torture?" Dean laughed out loud. He took a step closer to the chair, forcing the demon to shift on its feet and step to the side to keep the bound man between them. He was aware of the other demon still behind him. He knew it probably had a gun trained on him but there was little he could do about it right now and forced himself to remain focused on the threat in front of him. "Do you really think you can do anything to me that Alistair didn't already do?" His voice had dropped to a low rumble and he leaned forward, his eyes daring the demon to comment. "Do you actually think there is anything you can dish out that I haven't already taken?"

The demon raised its head, suddenly not as sure of itself as it had been moments before.

"Maybe I'll just kill you both, then." The demon finally decided.

"Then you'd still have to deal with me."

The voice from behind caused the demon to turn, shock showing on its face as he took in the shadowed figure at the back of the room. The look of complete surprise on the possessed face would've been comical, if it hadn't been so alarming.

"No," the demon said after a moment. "You… you're…"

Sam smiled coldly, emotionlessly, and Dean felt a chill go up his spine as he remembered the last time he had seen that expression on his brother's face.

When he had let Lucifer in.

"I'm what?" Sam's voice held a lilting chill that made Dean's heart leap into his throat. "Dead? Gone? Trapped?" He stepped forward out of the shadow of the doorway, his head tilted down, his eyes dark in the low light. "I'm right here."

"You're not… you can't be…" the demon stuttered, stepping away from the hunters, backing toward the far wall.

Dean waited, not sure how the scene would play out. Sam was scarily convincing in his portrayal of Lucifer, his eyes and face showing no trace of the man Dean had welcomed back from the dead.

"Sam?"

Bobby's whisper was hesitant as he watched the young man he had believed lost to them forever stand before them alive and whole. Dean watched as a flicker of… something… skirted across his brother's face as his eyes met Bobby's… something warm and familiar and so completely…Sam.

Dean found himself suddenly able to breathe again. Whatever had shone on the familiar features – even if it had been for just a heartbeat – had been something that had been recognizable as Sam and Dean allowed his instincts to take over. With a quick nod to his brother, he stepped back, sweeping a leg out, knocking the demon behind him off his feet. He reached out, grabbing hold of the man's shotgun as he went down, quickly spinning the weapon and jamming it into the demon's face. He knew the blow wouldn't stun the thing for long, but he bought himself enough time to search the room, spying the Colt lying on the table next to the door. He jumped across the struggling demon and reached out toward the Colt, feeling his fingers close around the familiar butt of the gun.

"Dean!"

At his brother's shout, he automatically dropped to the floor, rolling and bringing the Colt up. The demon was standing, weapon raised toward him, orange lights flashing beneath its skin. As he watched, the possessed man fell to his knees and tipped forward onto the floor two feet from him, the hilt of a very familiar looking knife embedded in his back.

Dean craned his neck up, his eyes meeting his brother's who simply grinned and shrugged. Movement to Sam's right caught his attention and Dean shifted the barrel of the Colt, aiming and pulling the trigger even as the last demon brought his own weapon up, aimed at Sam. The demon fell, the internal fireworks a replay of his friends' just moments before.

It was Dean's turn to grin and shrug. "About time, Francis."

"You were doing fine."

Dean touched the new welt along his hairline, pulling his hand away and turning it to display the new smear of blood. "Oh, yeah. Just awesome."

"If you two are done?"

Both men turned their attention to the older hunter still tied to the chair in the center of the room. Sam hurried forward, pulling another knife from his jacket and quickly freeing the older man. Dean pushed himself from the floor with a groan and made his way to the other hunters, pulling Ruby's knife from the dead man's body as he passed.

Bobby, once free, rose to his feet and turned, one arm reaching out to latch onto Sam's jacket.

"Is it… is it really you, boy?"

Sam smiled slowly, his eyes dropping momentarily at the emotion in the mechanics voice.

"Yeah, Bobby. It's really me." He grasped Bobby's arm with his hand, the two men holding onto each other as if their lives depended on it.

"How?" Bobby asked, confusion obvious in his voice. "You were…"

"I know," Sam interjected. "I'll explain what I can..."

"Later," Dean interrupted. "Right now, I say we haul ass before any more of these sons-of-bitches show up."

…..

They stopped at a motel as soon as they crossed the border into Iowa, an out of the way hole in the wall beneath even their standards. As Sam started his explanation to Bobby about what had happened at and since Stull, Dean silently crept outside, steeling himself for the conversation he knew he was about to have.

"_Dean?"_ Lisa answered on the second ring, her voice reaching something deep inside him that he'd never even knew existed.

"Hey, Lisa."

"_Are you okay?"_

Dean nodded, hoisting himself up on the trunk of the Impala. "Yeah. We got Bobby. He's okay. We're all okay."

"_Thank God."_

Dean snorted a laugh, pretty sure God had nothing to do with it.

"How's Minneapolis?"

Lisa didn't respond right away, and Dean knew she understood the meaning behind his question.

"_It's great,"_ she finally responded_. "My friend and her husband asked me to stay and help run their spa. You know, run the aerobics and yoga classes. That kind of stuff."_

Dean swallowed, not expecting the sadness he was feeling. "That's, uh… that's great. Sounds like a good offer." He stopped as his throat closed up, a feeling of loss already beginning to hollow out another space in his heart. "So… uh… you gonna take them up on it?"

"_I'm thinking about it. It's an amazing opportunity."_

Dean nodded, squeezing his eyes shut as the ache in his chest started to grow. "What about Ben?"

"_He loves it here. He's already made friends, and he's going to play on my friend's son's baseball team tomorrow."_

"Wow," Dean said, forcing his voice to remain light. "That's… that's great."

There was an uncomfortable silence and Dean found himself listening to the sounds of Lisa breathing. He'd become accustomed to hearing her breathing, lying with her at night, his mind unable to shut down, replaying the memories of Stull, of Sam, over and over. He found that concentrating on Lisa's light breathing had lulled him into a semblance of peace and he'd finally been able to close his eyes without seeing his little brother's face contorted into the sneer of repulsion Lucifer wore like a mask. It had taken a long time each night, but he'd begun to focus on her every night, and after a while, was finally able to sleep.

He owed her so much…. and he knew he'd never be able to repay that debt. The only thing he could really do for her was to let her go.

"_Dean?"_

"Um, yeah. I'm here."

"_You're not coming back, are you?"_

Dean swallowed hard, finding it harder to say goodbye than he'd ever imagined it would be.

"_It's okay,"_ she continued, her voice hitching as she obviously held back her tears. _"I… I never thought you'd be able to stay."_

"Lisa,,,"

"_No. I understand. It's not your life. It's okay. I guess… I guess I just…"_

"I'm sorry." His voice was barely a whisper and he felt the burn of tears he would never let fall. "I'm so sorry."

"_I'm not. You're a good man, Dean Winchester. And I… I will always love you." _

The click in his ear was followed by dead air and he closed his eyes, dropping his hand as he closed the phone. He let his head fall, his phone held tight in his hand as the overwhelming sense of loss engulfed him.

"Dean?"

He turned his head and tipped it slightly, acknowledging Bobby's presence beside the Impala. The older hunter took it as an invitation and stepped around the trunk leaning his body against the cool metal, crossing his arms across his chest.

"Where's Sam?"

Bobby quirked his chin back toward the partially open door to the room, and Dean glanced back at the light spilling out onto the asphalt lot.

"Taking a shower. Said it'd been a couple days."

Dean nodded, shoving the phone and his hand into his pocket. "So… what do you think?"

"About Sam?" At Dean's nod he frowned, finally shrugging both shoulders slightly. "I don't know what to think. I mean if ever anyone was due a good turn it's you two boys, but…."

"I know," Dean sighed, the ache in his chest hitching up a notch. "But, I gotta believe, Bobby. I don't think I could handle it if…"

"I hear ya, kid." Bobby shook his head. "I believe it's your brother. Whether or not God saved him… I don't know. But I'm gonna believe it's him until I have a real good reason not to."

Dean laughed softly, knowing the older man's faith in Sam almost rivaled his own.

"Yeah, me, too."

"You okay?" Bobby asked, breaking the momentary silence that had spread between the two lone occupants of the parking lot.

Dean nodded, then shrugged, not really sure how to answer. "I guess."

The older man tilted his chin toward the pocket Dean's phone had disappeared into. "Was that your girl?"

"Yeah." Dean took a deep breath, blinking quickly against the burn in his eyes. "She's okay for now."

Bobby nodded in understanding. "As long as she's not near you."

"I can't risk putting them in danger." Dean wasn't sure if he was trying to explain it to Bobby or to himself. "I just… I care about them too much to risk anything happening to them. She has a life… they have a life and as much as I might want to be a part of it, I know it's better if I'm not."

"It takes a brave man to make the tough choices, Dean."

"Well, I don't feel very brave, Bobby. I feel… pretty fucking empty."

"Give it time, kid. You've got your brother back. Just let that sink in for a while. Everything will work itself out."

Dean laughed and gave the older man a sideways look. "Like it has so far?"

Bobby grinned in return. "Seems to me you're a bit better of than you were a few days ago." He tilted his head toward the now open doorway where Sam stood, hair dripping, leaning against the frame.

"Yeah." Dean said, taking in the sight he'd never believed he'd ever see again. "I guess you got that one right."

…..

**Epilogue**

_Dean knocked on the door again, stepping forward and craning his head to peer into the front room through the glass. The TV was on, but there didn't seem to be anyone inside, which was odd considering it was nearly 7:00 and time for Ben's favorite program. He reached out a hand and placed it on the knob, surprised when it turned easily in his grasp. He pushed the door open, first leaning forward then stepping inside, frowning at how empty the place felt._

"_Lisa?" He stepped in further, closing the door behind him. "Ben?" _

_There was a soft looking white sweater he'd seen Lisa wear numerous times draped across the back of the couch and he moved closer to it, his hand slowly caressing the familiar material. His eyes searched the room, landing at the base of the steps. Maybe they were both upstairs and hadn't heard the knock. He quickly moved across the room, his hand on the rail and one foot raised to the step when he heard a noise coming from the kitchen. _

_His body tensed, instincts taking over as he moved silently toward the dining room that connected the kitchen to the rest of the house. He didn't carry a weapon, having locked the guns up in the Impala's secret compartment at Lisa's request, and although he only expected to find his new family cleaning up the dinner dishes or maybe scooping up ice cream in preparation for an evening of relaxation, the hairs on the back of his neck prickled as he moved into the light of the room._

_Lisa and Ben both sat at the table, their heads tilted back at an awkward angle. The fronts of their shirts were drenched in deep red, almost black blood, their vacant eyes staring at the ceiling. Dean stopped at the sight, his heart climbing to his throat, cutting off his air._

"_You're late, Dean."_

_His eyes shifted to the counter to the left of the table, his mouth gaping as he watched his brother meticulously wipe the blood from a large butcher knife with one of Lisa's red checkered dishtowels._

"_Sam?" Dean's voice was barely discernable, but Sam didn't seem to have any problem hearing it._

"_Not quite." The younger man grinned coldly and Dean gasped at the lilt in his brother's voice. "Sam's not home anymore." He dropped the knife on the counter and stepped around the table, his shoe squeaking in the congealed blood pooling on the tile floor. "Sorry about the mess, Dean, but I had to get your attention." He stepped directly in front of Dean and the older hunter found he couldn't move._

"_What do you want?" he managed to whisper._

_Lucifer smiled. "Out."_

Dean bolted upright, the dream still vivid in his mind. His heart slammed against his ribs as his breath caught in his throat. He turned his head, easily making out the form of his brother, sleeping peacefully on the opposite bed.

Sam looked... like Sam. No weird vibes, no evil presence... just Sammy.

But was Dean only seeing what he wanted to see? Was Sam really Sam?

If Lucifer had truly taken his brother over, would he even be able to tell? Lucifer had fooled him before in Detroit. Would Dean be able to tell any better now?

It was conceivable that the devil was strong enough to control Sam even from inside the cage... he was the devil... who really knew what kind of power he possessed? If he'd somehow sent Sam's body back... controlled or... whatever... what did he want?

That was simple. The key.

But maybe the nightmare was just that - a nightmare. Maybe Sam was really Sam. Maybe God had finally done something right and given the good guys a break.

Dean rubbed a hand down his sweaty face and took a deep, shaky breath in an effort to slow his racing heart. How the hell was he supposed to know what was real? How was he supposed to know what - or who - to trust?

Crowley had cautioned him, even Bobby hadn't been one hundred percent sure, but everything inside him wanted this to be Sam. He needed his brother back - hell he deserved it.

But...

For the time being, he would keep the location of the rings to himself. The fewer people who knew where the key was hidden, the safer it - and they - would be. If it really was Sam, he would understand. If it wasn't...

The devil was good, but he wasn't infallible. If it really was Lucifer controlling Sam's body, then he would make a slip at some point and Dean would do what he had to do. But until then, he had to trust his brother. He had to believe they had finally been served a little slice of good luck.

God had brought Cas back new and improved, giving him enough mojo to heal Dean and bring Bobby back, so why was it so hard to believe He would spare Sam? They'd sacrificed everything. They deserved a reward.

Slowly, he let himself relax back into the pillows, his heart slowing to something close to a normal pace as he tried to breathe deep and regular. He wasn't going to borrow trouble. They'd been handed a miracle and, despite their track record with good luck, he was going to take this one at face value for now. His brother was back, they were together and back on the road, saving people, hunting things... the family business.

Everything was as it should be and Dean was going to hold on to it for as long as he could.

After all, he told himself, life goes on, doesn't it? Whether you want it to or not.

The End

_Well, that's what I'm going with until season 6 starts up and proves me wrong. I'd love to hear what you thought! Did it work? Like Chuck said, any monkey can write a beginning. I would like to believe I'm a smart monkey. g Let me know what you're hopes and dreams for season 6 are. I'd love to hear speculation. Thanks for reading! Is it September yet? - Sue_


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